


Journey

by Castellanos



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Closest I can describe it is Borderlands-esque, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Minor Character Death, More characters to be added, Slow Burn, eventually, explicit sexual content in future chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-10-18 07:16:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17576342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castellanos/pseuds/Castellanos
Summary: Arthur lives a peaceful life out in the desert along with the tribe that orphaned him from when he was a young child. The desert is scorching and cruel, with danger lurking close outside the village.Danger was closer than they thought.





	1. Shambles

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written in a decade but this ship is gr8 and it needs more love, no gay cowboys until a few chapters in though

Their village was remote; desolate. And it was _safe_ , most importantly. Ever since whatever excuse of a government they had had fallen, the desert had turned into a deadly heap of shit. So much so, that even Arthur wasn't allowed to leave the village anymore. The Chief had been shot into bits by a gang of raiders after all.

So now Arthur was stuck here. And it was goddamn mindnumbingly  _boring_. If it weren't for the multiple journals he'd filled, he would've gone insane already. For what felt like the umpteenth time today, Arthur let out a deep sigh. He closed his thick, worn journal with a _thump_  and kicked himself into gear for the day.

As he walked across the village, he noticed it felt a lot quieter than usual. No kids running around, no animals to be heard with how few of them were left ever since the place turned into a hot hellscape. There wasn't much to be found outside except death anyway. Nothing but shitty, dry desert with a couple bits of forest here and there, and a whole lot of beasts that were more than willing to rip people like Arthur apart. Some beasts more human than others.

There was a large tree in the center of the village. It was old, tall, and inspiring. It was decorated with the many colorful dreamcatchers the children had made. They dangled and floated along with the breeze. To say the tree was important to these people, _Arthur_ 's people, was an understatement.

Underneath sat Ayita. She was an old little lady from the same "tribe" as their new Chief, as they called it. She was carving what looked like a bird out of a little wood log. She'd made dozen of the things over the years. They were charms of some sort. Or at least, that's what Arthur assumed they were. Ayita put far too much effort into them for them to be meaningless decorations. Not to mention, they always seemed to pop up around his cot when he wasn't feeling well. Yes, Ayita was small and gentle, but _damn_ she was sneaky.

As Arthur stepped closer, Ayita looked up from her work.

"Ahote!" She spoke, her voice lifted with glee. "You've risen from your cottage at last."

Talking to Ayita always warmed his heart. The way her thin, worried little lips would melt into the sweetest smile when she looked at him made him feel damned special. If you asked him, he'd consider her his only family.

"Yeah, ain't much to do since the Chief won't let us go out anymore." He spoke. God, his throat felt so dry. How long had he been sitting around for?

"You know it is for your own safety, my son." Ayita said. She closed her hands around her wooden carving, and moved her lips soundlessly. Arthur stood and watched quietly, not sure if saying anything right now would be rude. Ayita carried many mysteries, and he didn't want to prod.

When she opened her eyes once more, she slowly raised to her feet, using the large tree as leverage. Arthur was ready to bolt to her aid, hands already reaching out to help her, but she dismissed him, waving her hand. She stepped towards him and motioned for him to hold out his hands. When he did, she placed the little wooden bird in his hands. Arthur looked at her, perplexed. She had never gifted him one of her charms in person before.

Ayita chuckled. "It belongs to you now. There are stormy days ahead. Let it keep you safe. If in return, you do the same, know that I am always here to watch over you." She motioned to the bird, softly tracing its edges. It was a small and fierceful hawk, Arthur noted. Ayita folded her hands over Arthur's, and closed them around the charm. She then looked up into his eyes, and smiled so brightly that it made her small eyes crinkle in joy. Arthur felt like the most treasured man in the goddamn galaxy.

 

"Arthur!" A voice called.

He snapped out of his thoughts and looked around in bewilderment. Charles. The new chief of their village. A beautiful young man with a pure and kind heart. Arthur considered Charles his best friend, if not his brother. 

"Greetings, Chief Tiponi," Arthur started as he reached to put the sacred little charm in his bag.

"Oh, please friend, you know I have the formality." Charles said, frowning slightly.

After the Chief's death, Charles was the next one in line as he was the Chief's only son. Arthur knew how anxious Charles was to have so much responsibility on his shoulders. The man didn't even have time to mourn his own father. He was tasked to lead an entire village out of the face of death.

"I know, I know. Can't exactly pretend nothin' happened though." Arthur said.

"You'll never be so much of a follower as you are my brother, and my equal." Charles said, tucking his hair behind his ear, careful not to ruin the paintings on his face. The ritual for his new status hadn't happened all too long ago.

There was a beat of uncertain silence before Charles spoke again. "Look, I know going out there is a bad idea, but the tribe is running dangerously low on supplies." There was a question in his words, as if he wasn't sure of his own decision. Like he was asking Arthur to help him decide.

Arthur scoffed quietly, turning his gaze towards the village entrance; a large gap between the trees that hid their village from the dangers of the desert. At the sides, there were totems carved out of stumps, meant to protect them from outsiders. After what happened to the Chief though... well, they might need to look into some other form of security.

"We don't know if those men are still out there, Charles." He mumbled. "What if they're waitin' for us out there, to see if the hunger will lead us out of our den, or if we'd rather starve?

"Would you?" Charles replied sharply. Arthur turned back to look him in the eyes, only to be met with a gaze of fear, doubt, and _anger_.

Charles was... Charles was right. Either they starve here, and they'll have their very own graves plundered, or they take the risk to get what they can out there. Be it either food or a quicker, merciful death.

Arthur sighed again. "Alright." He hoped that'd be his last time to sigh for today.


	2. Ruin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles and Arthur ride out to scavenge for supplies. Their trip ends sooner than they expected.

They rode out at dawn. The sun was still soft, and the chill from the desert night hadn't left yet. Whatever trail the raiders might've left in the sand had already been swept away by the wind. It nullified any chance at revenge. Perhaps that was for the better.

"D'ya think they know about the oasis?" Arthur asked as they trotted through the coarse sand atop their steeds.

"Dunno. Depending on how far their camp is set up from our village, there's a good chance they might." Charles called back over his shoulder.

The oasis was pretty much their only source of food left. The tribe had scavenged all they could from abandoned camps and deserted towns near the village. The oasis was the only place that was mildly sustainable, with its soil fertile enough for some plants and trees to grow. It held up whatever bit of ecosystem was still left out in the desert. It provided them with birds to hunt, and the occasional antelope. Without it, they wouldn't be able to sustain the village and its cattle. There was a lot of danger and unexplored land beyond the oasis, and the tribe told Arthur to never go past it.

Arthur's steed, however, was _made_ for trips to the oasis and beyond. Carbine; a fierce four-legged beast. Nobody had dared to try and mount her, except for Arthur of course. Who could blame him? She was drop dead _gorgeous_.

 

"Did you drink from the wrong cactus? Have you gone mad? Hold on, I have to check your temperature, maybe you have a-"

"I'm fine, ya daft bastard!" Arthur laughed as he playfully swatted Charles' hand away. They stood by the gentle giant herself in the pen. Her manes were a luscious gold, and her fur was reminiscent of the heavy, flowing sands of the desert. Arthur whistled appreciatively. Though, he wasn't so sure who of the two of them was checking out _who_. She looked at him with a naughty, devilish glimmer in her eye.

The two of them were perfect for each other.

 

Before the raiders found their way to the village, Arthur and Carbine took many trips into the endless golden sea of sand. It felt good to help provide supplies, and it felt even better to be free. The adrenaline that came from the danger of traveling further and further past the oasis with every trip was _thrilling_. Sure, he had found many terrifying creatures out in the desert that he'd never seen before, but they never stopped him from doing the exact same on his next trip. It had been a while since they rode out with everything that happened. Sure, it all felt a little scarier and stranger than usual, but _damn_ if it didn't feel amazing to be back in the saddle.

He rode with Charles in silence, with both men caught up in their own thoughts. That was, until they saw the palm trees of the oasis peeking over the horizon. Charles turned slightly to look at him with a sly grin plastered on his face.

"Race you there?" He asked.

"You goddamn bet!" Arthur said, mouth splitting into a grin.

In a flash, both men drove their horses into a fierce gallop. Carbine, being the beast that she is, pulled ahead near instantly. Both men laughed as they dashed across the vast expanse of sand, drops of sweat whisked away by the breeze. The wind through Arthur's matted hair felt amazing. He felt so powerful atop his steed, racing like his life depended on it.

Until a rotting heap behind a tall dune caught him offguard. Carbine ducked to the side at the last second, smart girl that she is, but Arthur couldn't follow her lead fast enough and was promptly sent flying. Charles skidded to a stop behind him and was on his feet in no time.

"Arthur! Arthur, you okay?" He yelled, running to his friend's side. Arthur sat up and shook the sand out of his hair before ungracefully spitting out a mouthful of sand.

"I'm _fine_ ," He groaned. "What in the goddamn hells _was_ that?"

Charles rose from where he was kneeling beside Arthur, and turned.

"Oh, _fuck_."

There, in the valley of the dune lay the rotting corpses of men among their dead steeds and their scattered supplies. The sand was only starting to pile up on their lifeless bodies; a sign that they hadn't been there long. The sun, however, makes quick work of the remains of the dead here in the desert.

Charles slowly waded down into the valley, slowing to a halt before one of the bodies. He kneeled, and blew the sand from its face. Arthur had already risen to his feet, alarmed by the tone in Charles' voice. He watched as Charles turned the corpse to its side and watched his shoulders stiffen. He hoped his suspicions weren't right.

Then, without looking back, Charles spoke. "It's the raiders."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hMmMm i wonder whoooO


	3. Brace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With their newfound discovery, their problems only worsen.

"They _starve_ out here?" Arthur asked.

"No..." Charles said. He whisked away the sand on the raider's coat. Most of the sand was stuck to it, drenched in red. "Bullet wounds."

"Damn, must've had a traitor in their midst." Arthur said, awkwardly rubbing his neck. Definitely no revenge then.

"Maybe." Charles spoke, uncertain. "I don't know how many of them there were. I can't tell if there's any of them missing." He stood up slowly and shot Arthur a dreadful look. Maybe they weren't as alone as they thought out here. It seemed impossible, but...

"There's _always_ a bigger fish, Arthur."

 

After going through the bandits' scattered supplies and harvesting what they could around the desert oasis, the two men hurried back home.

"We're going to have to move." Arthur overheard, as Charles discussed the matter with their most valued tribesmen. They'd asked Arthur to wait outside. It caused a painful pang in his chest, knowing he _still_ wasn't a real part of the tribe, even though he was basically raised by them. He couldn't do much other than oblige. 

"It's too dangerous to stay. And without those supplies, we can't keep our cattle fed. If we have to kill our own cattle, then..." Charles paused, before continuing with uncertainty. "Half the village will starve."

There were some disgruntled replies from the tribesmen. Arthur tried to make out what they were saying, only catching bits and pieces. Unlike Charles, they refused to talk in any language other than their own. Even after his many years here, Arthur never learned their language. Ayita reminds him often enough that teaching him to read was a difficult enough task. Charles had suggested they stick to teaching Arthur the language of the 'outsiders'.

"For when the time comes." He had told Arthur. Arthur still didn't have a damn clue what that was supposed to mean.

When his head started to throb from trying to translate the high-speed conversation, he decided to flip open his journal instead. It was mostly drawings and sketches, as he didn't want to write after... after what happened to his tribe. He didn't want to think back to that day. So, he opted to continue drawing instead. Most of his drawings were rather repetitive. There wasn't much new to see around here anymore, and he didn't remember what the world beyond the sea of sand was like. Assuming there was one, or that he ever even saw it.

He idly drew the hours away, filling pages with swift strokes of charcoal. It wasn't until one of the kids came over to see if he was dead that he realized he'd fallen asleep.

"Don't you worry about ol' uncle Arthur, girl." He said as he ruffled the little girl's hair. She ran off with a grin to her friends, who probably dared her to do it in the first place.

The sun was slowly starting to set. With a groan, Arthur stretched his limbs and rolled his shoulders before getting to his feet. He waved folk goodnight as he passed them and pulled aside the sheets to his cot. He was still itchy from the surprise sand he kept finding between his clothes and every crease of his leather boots. He even found sand in his damn ear. Laying down, he could finally forget about it. His soft, pelt-covered bed never disappoints.

He slept like shit despite it all.

 

When he woke, Arthur felt heavy, groggy, and _awful_. He slept like a rock, sure. One that was nicely chucked into a pool of quicksand. He slid a hand over his sweaty, gross face and groaned as he tried to peel his crusted eyes open. That's when the noise outside finally began to filter in.

Voices. _Outsiders' voices_.

Arthur's eyes snapped open as he jumped to his feet ever ungracefully. He steadied himself, nearly tumbling over, and stood by the entrance of his cottage. He carefully pried the cloth apart far enough for him to peek through. He watched and listened. There were _a lot_ of them. Over half a dozen of men stood in the middle of the village, not too far from Arthur's cot. And they were armed to the teeth.

The first thing that stood out to him was a tall and tanned man, with jet black hair slicked back that curled at the ends, just like his own. Definitely not a native to the desert. A bright glimmer caught his eye, then. The man's fingers were adorned by many pieces of shiny gold. Arthur had watched Ayita make things like those before, but they were wooden and less shiny. The glister of the heavy, silver gun was far more worrying though. The man spun it between his fingers weightlessly, like a toy, as he paced back and forth with a devilish sneer on his face. In a strange way, it reminded him of Carbine.

Then, the man spoke.

"If I do not see your leader, or _Chief_ ," He spat with venom, "very soon, then I'm afraid my friend _Micah_ might slip his finger."

The man motioned to one of his henchmen. Seems like he was their leader then. The man he pointed to in question had hair long and golden, but it was caked with grime and mud and clung together as a whole. The shit-eating grin on the guy's face looked mighty fuckin' punchable. Arthur glanced down, then. His heart fell.

Ayita sat on her knees, with the barrel of the greasy guy's gun pressed to her temple. Her cheeks were stained with tears, and her smile was thin and forced. The raven-haired man, their _leader_ , cleared his throat.

"Well?" He demanded, with that annoying cocky grin. Arthur glanced back at 'Micah'. His finger looked like he was _itching_ to pull the trigger. Fuck. The village people stared in horror, with the guns of multiple henchmen aimed at them, ready to kill if they dared to make a move. _Fuck_.

The bandit leader barked out a sinister laugh. "Well then! Micah, the honor is your-"

"DON'T!"

Suddenly, all eyes were on Arthur. Sweat trickled down his face. Probably a big fuckin' mistake.

"Don't you fuckin' dare lay but a finger on her!" He growled.

Their leader didn't even flinch. Hell, he wasn't even phased. He just took one long, leisurely look at Arthur. Then laughed.

"Or _what_ , boy?" The man said with glee. "You don't look like no chief. They pick you up stranded in the sand or something? You their _pet_?" He joked. His henchmen laughed along.

"Ahote, please, do not-" Ayita spoke, breaking down into a sob.

"Shut yer fuckin' trap, ya desert vermin!" Micah yelled, swiftly slamming the butt of his gun across Ayita's face. She sobbed in pain.

Arthur felt like he was going to goddamn _explode_. Their leader had the balls to goddamn look him in the eye and _smile_ as it happened. Like he enjoyed seeing the pain flash across Arthur's face, or some other twisted bullshit.

"Make a move, and you'll both share the same fate." The man said, smile widening. He whispered the words like a lover's sweet promise. Fucking damn it all.

Arthur clenched his fists. He was ready. He was ready to jab this blonde piece of shit in the throat if it meant saving sweet, precious Ayita. He was ready to make a run for it, make his last stand, but a yell stopped him.

"Arthur!" It was Charles. His voice had no feeling to it. No fear, no pain, no sadness.

Their leader laughed. He happily spun his gun in his swift, deft hands. "Another intrusion? Are there any more of ya holed up and hidden around here?"

"What is it that you want, besides terrorize my people?" Charles said, his voice snappy. He looked absolutely crestfallen.

" _Everything_ you have."

"We have nothing of value to you." Charles replied.

"See, boss?! I told ya these rats don't got a damn thing worth our time!" Micah yelled, his stupid grin still plastered on his face.

"Nonsense, my boy. These pretty little things go for quite a pretty penny back home." Their leader said, as he walked over to Ayita and ripped her necklace off her neck with a loud snap. That was her wedding gift. Arthur was practically fuming with anger.

The man then whistled sharply, and quick as lightning one of his henchmen; a rather lanky one, his skin darker than any of the others', took out a cloth bag. He proceeded to walk past the tribespeople, one by one. He jiggled it slightly, telling the children to hurry up as they sobbed and dropped their belongings into the bag.

"Aren't you just the sweetest little angels?" Their leider cood, almost mockingly. He whistled loudly with his fingers and the other men followed his lead. Their steeds came running through the gate. Arthur had been too distracted to even notice them outside at first. 

"Alright, boys, we're done here." The man said. "But you," he exclaimed then suddenly, as he flicked his gun up in his hand and aimed it directly at Arthur. "You're coming with _us_."

Arthur just stood and stared at him. There was a dangerous mix of anger and fear within him; boiling and ready to explode. His feet decided to move before his mouth did.

"Good boy."

He could feel the cold, hard press of a gun in his back as he walked past the man to the gang's horses.

"Come on, Micah!" The man shouted over his shoulder behind him as they walked. A gunshot rang through Arthur's ears. He was too scared to look back. He didn't _want_ to look back.

"Ever the insistent, aren't you Micah!" The man exclaimed with joy. His henchmen laughed along, like a parade of parrots. 

Arthur could only hear Micah's ratty laugh and the rage pumping through his veins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> target located
> 
> i enjoy italics a lot


	4. Await

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo im not dead but my life did a triple kickflip off a cliff and i bought a switch to busy myself, anyway sorry for the short chapter but i felt guilty for not uploading dhshf  
> more soon though!!

The ride _sucked_. Arthur had no clue where he was going, but he knew that the desert was hot, the sun hotter, and his temper the hottest.

The men had promptly blindfolded him as soon as they had reached their horses. There was some ruckus about who had to share their ride with the "desert scoundrel" and some hushed whispers about _why_ they were even taking the guy whenever the big boss was out of earshot. It seemed they were all as clueless as he was.

In the end, he ended up riding with some rookie named 'Lenny', who was considerably less big-mouthed than the rest of them. So here he was, hands tied and not knowing a damn thing about what was happening or why. The only thing he knew was that his mouth was dry as hell, and that it made him feel real uneasy. Arthur shifted around trying to escape the feeling but it barely made a difference. Luckily, it made the horse under him as skittish as he was. After a while, Lenny finally turned around in his seat ever so slightly.

"You okay man?" He whispered to Arthur.

" _Water_ ," was all that Arthur could grunt in reply. He didn't really expect to hear the screw of a cap and to feel a bottle being pressed to his lips, though. Lenny was helping him?

"C'mon, drink, it's okay." Said Lenny, snapping Arthur out of his frozen state. He parted his lips slowly as Lenny tipped the bottle to them. He thanked whichever Gods might be listening when he felt the lukewarm water run down his throat.

"I- thank you." Arthur mumbled after clearing his throat, finally being rid of feeling like sandpaper.

"Don't mention it." Lenny simply said. There was a quick snap of his reins, and they were off again. This time, the silence was at least a little less uncomfortable.

 

"Let's settle 'er down here, boys!" Someone yelled. Arthur awoke, startled, from where he'd been hunched over asleep against Lenny's back, almost flinging himself off the back of their horse.

The lulling sounds of horse hooves came to a stop, and was replaced by men mumbling and the jingles of folk dismounting from their saddles.

"Bill, Lenny, would you be so kind as to start setting up camp for us?" The same voice said, followed by a loud chuckle. It was their boss again, or 'Dutch', as he'd learned from eavesdropping during the ride. It was actually his name, and not a title as Arthur had thought. The guy seemed to be a pretty big deal, considering all his men seemed to be afraid of him in varying degrees. Well, except one. Of course that asshole Micah didn't care, that man was a loose trigger.

One set of footsteps approached Arthur, whilst all the others scattered and went on their ways.

"I'll be taking him from you now. Good work, go on now, Lenny." Dutch said. Arthur felt Lenny dismount before him, before a strong hand hooked itself around his forearm. It tugged at him with force, but not enough to be considered harsh. So he obliged, lifting one leg over the horse and letting himself slide down into what he assumed was Dutch's embrace. The hand moved from its spot on his arm, and he felt Dutch fumbling at his blindfold soon after.

"There you are," Dutch said as he undid the blindfold. When Arthur opened his eyes, he found himself face to face with the man, in the light of the setting sun. Seeing Dutch dare to _smile_ at him left a foul taste in his mouth.

"Aww, don't give me that look now, pup." Dutch coo'd, his smile deepening into a devilish grin. "Obey your new master now, and I promise I'll treat you well. I won't let your potentional go to waste. Now... what is your name?"

Arthur glared at him, confused and disturbed by what he could mean by 'potential', but the man didn't budge an inch. He just stood and stared at him, waiting. So Arthur glanced to the ground, swallowing the urge to spit in the man's face and sighed.

"Arthur."

**Author's Note:**

> Ayita = First to Dance  
> Ahote = Restless One  
> Tiponi = Child of Importance
> 
> Correct me if I'm wrong tho lmao  
> Pls be friends with me on the Tumbles  
> https://noonesfave.tumblr.com/


End file.
